


Flight Test

by Avenging_is_My_Day_Job



Series: Halfway Human [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Cyborg! Tony Stark, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Tony Stark, Team Bonding, Tony Stark Has Issues, Whump, and deserve to have human reactions, and then some angst, because they're all human, everyone gets upset, they aren't evil for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 08:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14588949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avenging_is_My_Day_Job/pseuds/Avenging_is_My_Day_Job
Summary: "It's understandable," said Bruce, giving him That Look. The one where he peered over the top edge of his glasses like a parent trying to level with a child, or an unruly teenager. Tony had gotten That Look aplenty in his younger years."They don't expect a program to execute so much free will. Unless, of course, Stark programmed you to specifically exhibit his own behaviours.""I wouldn't put it past him," Tony remarked.---The one where the team finds out





	Flight Test

So the Avengers thought that, at the end of the day, Tony - Iron Man - just holed away in the workshop downstairs to power down for a few hours. They didn't read too much into it, and that left Tony to ditching the armor downstairs so he could kick back in the penthouse in his pajamas. It also meant that he had the freedom to eat a full meal, if he so desired, at least in the mornings and evenings. He was quite proud of his omelette crafting skills, and the kitchen was always fully stocked, so he never ran out of options.

It didn't make going down to the common floor in the mornings just to smell fresh coffee and Cap's famous flapjacks any less painful. 

When he offered up the tower as a base of operations slash apartment complex for the wayward superheroes, he didn't expect them to take to this dynamic so quickly, and even though he wasn't able to fully participate, it still warmed his heart. But once again, it didn't make these mornings any easier.

"Come on, Birdbrain, that's not even food. That's a crime against nature," he remarked, coming into the kitchen one morning. 

The archer simpered by the stove for a few moments, then came back with a very typical 'I can't think of anything better' "You're just jealous because you can't eat it."

"Low blow, Barton. Fuck you."

"You wish," he ducked as a bottle of ground cinnamon was chucked at his head, laughing while it spilled on the ground.

"Behave," Rogers chided, sipping on his still steaming coffee while skimming the morning paper. Seriously? Couldn't he just use the internet?

"Tell that to _him_ ," Tony retorted, jabbing a thumb in Barton's direction. "He's the human. He's supposed to be the responsible one."

That earned him an eye roll from both men, and he shuffled out of the way while the mystery breakfast was transferred from the stovetop onto plates. 

He relaxed, taking a seat on a barstool while the rest of the team procured their food and meandered to their preferred perches. 

For a long time he had worried that they wouldn't take to a routine, or mesh well in such close quarters. It was an explosive combination, he thought, but he had been _wrong_ and he had never been so... relieved to be wrong. In any other setting they might be volatile, but put them together and they mellowed out. They weren't superhumans and superspies trying to fit into polite society like they bore no differences to the average Joe, they were superhumans and superspies in their element. 

"What's on the docket for today?"

"Hill and Rogers are doing a press release on the last mission. Some sensitive details were leaked and people are asking questions," Romanov answered. The last to arrive, but clearly better prepared for the day than anyone. Not a single hair out of place.

"Training. Reviewing reports."

"Same old boring stuff that I usually avoid?" He joked.

"Not this time. You may have earned the hearts of the public, but SHIELD is still wary - "

"Fury _loves_ me, who are you kidding?"

"And they're getting antsy because you keep deviating from protocol and disobeying orders in the field."

"That doesn't mean anything," he retorted, earning an irritated sigh from the assassin.

"It's understandable," said Bruce, giving him _That Look_. The one where he peered over the top edge of his glasses like a parent trying to level with a child, or an unruly teenager. Tony had gotten _That Look_ aplenty in his younger years.

"They don't expect a program to execute so much free will. Unless, of course, Stark programmed you to specifically exhibit his own behaviours."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Tony remarked, gears in the suit whirring softly when he gave the group a little shrug. "How come nobody lectures Jarvis?"

"He's actually helpful," Barton chimed, and this time Tony threw an orange, swiped from the bowl that decorated the centre of the kitchen island. The fruit narrowly missed the archer's head, and bounced off of the fridge. 

"You're cleaning that up," Rogers carried his dishes to the sink and turned on the tap.

"Worth it."

"You're all children," Romanov sighed, staring them down, and the Captain looked genuinely offended.

"The only one here under the age of ten is Iron Man," he replied, without missing a beat, and Tony scoffed.

"True, but ouch. Another low blow."

"You're not throwing anything at him?" Barton asked.

"Of course not. Not only do I refuse to prove his assumptions about my maturity level correct, but he's one of two people in this building actually capable of beating my ass in a fight."

"Damn straight..."

" _Language_ , Cap."

"Stop deflecting," Romanov interjected, silencing the others. "We don't want to see SHIELD terminating your programming because of this."

He bit his tongue, finding it hard to resist _because of a squished orange?_ , and instead gave a simple nod. They cared. _They cared_. They treated him like a human being deserving of their compassion, no matter how he saw himself. Not human anymore, and certainly not a good person, but _they cared_.

Well, that did bring a question to mind. 

They didn't want to see SHIELD terminate him, but would they stop it? If it came down to preserving him, or trusting the agency's judgement on his threat level, would they even hesitate?

"This includes a flight test," Cap's voice drew him from his thoughts. "We're going somewhere remote, though."

"Why?"

"We don't need you crashing into buildings if you can't make a turn."

"Right, so am I supposed to fly around while you tell me where to go?"

"Don't be absurd," Romanov had a mischievous glint in her eyes, and she took her sweet time taking a sip of juice before continuing. "Jarvis helped me program a simulation. Your HUD will display the directives while you're in the air."

"Traitor," Tony pointed up at the ceiling, where one of his AI's cameras was observing the group. "And you. You've been holding out on us."

"All I did was jot down my ideas. Your brother did the rest."

" _Apologies,_ " Jarvis chimed, sounding not a single ounce apologetic. " _I perceived no threat in Agent Romanov's suggestions. I did not allow her access to our servers, however. Not to say I believe she is unable to operate these complex systems_."

The others didn't notice, but there was an underlying warning there. Raggedy Ann was intelligent, enough so to break into some of the most secure servers on the planet. She could very well have created the simulation program herself, if she so desired. The fact that she didn't spoke volumes.

"You know me so well," he said, "I'll never say no to exercising these rusty old repulsors."

"Not so fast, if you want a workout so bad, go down to the training room. We've all just had breakfast."

" _Humans_ ,"

"Stop giving us reasons to deprogram you," Clint scoffed.

Tony got up, boots clanking on the hard tiles. He strode from the room, flipping the bird at the archer, ignoring the corny insults directed at his back.

* * *

As it turned out, Cap's idea of 'remote' was a chunk of land upstate that belonged to SI. A small grouping of warehouses, surrounded by empty land and patches of trees. It would make a great training ground, if it weren't for his current predicament.

"This course is scarily reminiscent to a game of Snake..."

The suit banked a hard right, narrowly missing a digital wall that his HUD displayed. The whole program was playing out like an old arcade game, really. He hit one obstacle already, causing the HUD to flash red, and a shrill horn to blow out his eardrums.

Okay, not really, but he did tumble to the ground and humiliate himself in front of Hawkass.

"You seem to be fond of outdated tech. Jarvis put it together, all I did - "

"Was put the idea in his server? I'd like to point out that I've flown through tighter spaces with minimal damage."

"Finish the course and then we'll talk."

He sweeped left, spiralling through a faux minefield decorated like giant party balloons. Colourful and cruel. His boot clipped one, and the alarm buzzed loudly. He didn't grant them the satisfaction of letting it startle him. 

He was sure he looked ridiculous, flying around empty air like his servos were malfunctioning. Still, it was nice to stretch a little. 

Suddenly the digital course faded away, and the normal functions of the HUD replaced the imagery, flashing briefly. Tony halted midair, then returned to the team down on the ground.

"An alert?"

"Attack in Midtown," Barton said, "Hope that new shell is up for a fight."

"Never made one that wasn't," he retorted, marching onto the quinjet behind Rogers and Romanov. Banner looked hesitant, but joined them nevertheless. Despite the man's own dubiety, he still valued the team and was more than willing to accept the Hyde to his Jekyll if it meant they had backup.

The scientist shuffled to an empty bench and strapped in, while the others geared up with the regrettably minimal equipment stored on board. Tony pulled up several screens, analyzing footage from the attack as it was happening.

"What's it look like?" 

What did it look like? Aside from destruction eerily reminiscent to crumbled walls and mangled cars that marred the streets of Manhattan only months ago, he really couldn't describe it. Between pedestrians attempting to run to safety, and smoke billowing from burning shops, only a glimpse of the perpetrators was to be had. Burly, lumbering monsters swung clubs and swords, crushing _anything_ that blocked their paths. 

Anything.

There were bodies, the few too unlucky to escape their ranges, strewn on the sidewalks and streets.

"Bad," he said, finally. "It's bad."

He had to give them more than that.

"They haven't spread out much. West 46th to West 43rd. Between Fifth and Sixth."

"Drop me off on a rooftop," Barton said, walking to the back of the jet. Tony could see the city skyline fast approaching. They'd be there within minutes.

"SHIELD's set up a perimeter and will hold them back. We need to pick them off."

And he was just the man from the job.

* * *

_No... nonononononono_

The armor was supposed to _protect_ him. Metal pierced metal, jagged pieces of the suit bit into his flesh. He was distantly aware of of a sharp pain exploding in his abdomen. He grasped weakly at the weapon, screaming when the creature twisted it, and collapsed when it was wretched from his body. Shouting erupted over the comms - yeah, he may have contributed to that noise quite a bit in the heat of the moment - and an arrow lodged into the beast's throat, detonating in a shower of blue guts and yellow blood. The blade it carried clattered onto the pavement, dripping red.

"Jarvis - " It came out as a wet gurgle, and the bitter taste of copper filled his mouth. He tried again, spitting the liquid out into he faceplate, coughing while more bubbled up his throat. 

"Iron Man!"

"Jay - " Alarms were going off in the suit, and the HUD flashed while Jarvis tried desperately to understand the words that Tony was desperately trying to form. 

Bruce was on the team's frequency, suddenly, and was demanding to know what was damaged. Was it serious? Could it be repaired. _Get back to the quinjet now, Iron Man!_

_That's a lot of oil and grease_

_Someone get over there and cover him!_

_Thor, there's one more..._

_That's not oil_

The monster was dead and splattered all over the street and sidewalk, and lighting struck down the last of the horde three blocks away. Clint was there, and he killed the monster that stabbed him - when did he get there? - why was he looking at him like that? He had guts on him, didn't he? That was going to be a bitch to clean, but he _did_ know a good carwash that didn't mind him dropping by to clog their drains with carnage once in awhile.

_That's not oil_

"Is that... Oh, _fuck_... Is that blood? Shit! Cap, get your star spangled ass down here!"

Tony choked on more blood, and some trickled out of his mouth and down the side of his face. Barton was hovering over him now, unsure of where to start, or what to do. Confusion and anger and fear stormed his features, not that Tony really noticed. He was shivering, it was _cold_ inside the suit, like it was cold inside the cave, and shit, there's Rogers, and his vision narrowed drastically, especially since he was already trying to see through the narrow slits in the faceplate.

"What the fuck is going on?" Barton demanded, as a shadow fell over Tony.

The next thing Tony knew, he could feel cool, fresh air on his face. Nothing like the stuffy air the suit's regulator pumped in for him to breathe. There was an impressive string of curses, _loud_ curses, from Rogers and Barton and Natasha was on the comms ordering emergency med-evac. 

" _Hey_!" Someone demanded, tapping his face, hard enough to sting, and his eyes fluttered open. When did he close them? Crap, this was getting worse. "Keep your eyes open."

He tried, he really did. But fuck it. He was tired. He was bleeding all over the suit and all over the asphalt and he just... He really needed a nap. "Look at me!" Someone commanded, and Tony opened his eyes again, locking gazes with a furious looking Captain America. He didn't have the strength to comply, and his eyes fell closed once more, and the voices over him were growing distant and quieter.

When he managed to drag his eyes open again, there was a flurry of unfamiliar faces, all dressed up in SHIELD uniforms and paramedic badges hovering around him. There was a mask over his face, forcing clean oxygen into his lungs because his body couldn't be bothered to breathe on its own, and Rogers and Thor were peeling pieces of the suit away because Jarvis' ability to disengage the locking mechanisms had been compromised in the fight.

He gasped, bolting upright only to be shoved back down, not just by a rough set of hands but by the agony bleeding into the rest of his body from the injury. Someone had pulled on the uneven and torn panels and framework in the suit, pulling some free from the deep cuts and exposing raw flesh to the air. Fuck, it burned.

_Everything's getting dark again_

He came to, this time much more abruptly, and he was immediately and painfully aware that the suit was _gone_. He looked around, wide eyed, and attempted to at least sit up, but he was pulled back down by padded straps. The oxygen mask was still firmly in place, and the more he moved, the more his senses returned to him. His vision was clearing and his hearing changed gradually from the dull pounding in the back of his head to the loud bustle of the SHIELD medics fussing over him.

He turned his head to the side, scanning the small area around the gurney and the agents, finding that it wasn't an ambulance, and the lack of road noise and sirens meant it was probably a jet. Efficient. He would have to applaud SHIELD later, for that, but for now they were pressing down on the hole in his stomach and pain flared up, not nearly as bad as before - was that an IV in his arm? that's why - but it was enough for him to shout and then strike out. A metal foot collided with someone's ribs, and they grabbed his leg, and then his _other_ leg, and...

_He remembered, between the ambush and waking up with a car battery in his chest, he was lucid, just long enough to feel the Ten Rings fucking with what was left of his legs. Dragging him, kicking him_

He felt a pinprick in his neck, and it felt like they were piling bricks on his chest, or pouring molasses on top of him. His movements slowed, and finally, mercifully, he blacked out. _Again_.

* * *

Tony woke to the blissful absence of pain. Like coming out of a pleasant dream, something he hadn't really had the joy of of experiencing for a few years. It didn't really hit him that he was laid back in a dull, sterile hospital room until he realized that the alarm clock he was futilely trying to reach was actually a heart monitor. And that he couldn't reach because he was still strapped down. The machine shrilly announced each beat of his heart as it happened, and it sped up when he opened his eyes, tugging on the restraints, focus darting around the room in a drug-hazed panic.

He started to sit up, and someone off to the side jumped from their dozing and gently nudged him back down, carding their finger soothingly through his hair and whispering words of comfort.

"Easy, easy," that sounded like Banner. Good 'ol, easy going Banner. "You're in the hospital, Mister Stark. A SHIELD hospital. Relax, okay? You've been out for a few days, so you need to take it slow."

Tony complied, taking slow breaths to calm his nerves. After a few minutes of this, he tried reaching up to remove the oxygen mask.

"Not yet," Banner said, holding a hand out. 

"Where," he choked out, finally, barely audible over the noise of the machines, "Are the others?"

Banner's face turned grim, but the distinct lack of green in his complexion was slightly reassuring. "Here," he replied, "And they aren't happy. They wan't an explanation."

"I don't owe them a damn thing," Tony spat.

"You lied to us for months," Banner pointed out with a frown, "They trusted you with everything, and you couldn't trust us with this?"

"You don't understand..."

"I do," Banner cut in, "I do, Mister Stark..."

"Tony," he sighed. "Just Tony."

"Tony... I really do understand. I'm probably the only person here who does."

He was aware of the correlation, but that didn't change his stance. The world didn't need Tony Stark, they needed a defender, and the merchant of death wasn't going to be that person.

He flexed his fingers, the soft whirring of the mechanical joints drawing Banner's gaze from his face to his hand. 

In truth, Tony wasn't entirely certain of his reasoning. There were plenty of factors, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact purpose behind the decision. It had all been lost on him years ago. 

"I'm not going to say that I'm not upset," Banner said, after a few tense moments passed between the two, "But now isn't the time. You need to rest."

Of course the one teammate with the biggest anger issues was going to have the tamest reaction. He left, an silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the shrill beeping from the heart monitor. None of the others filed in after. Not to yell, not to question him, not even to stare him down with disappointment and disgust. Just... Nothing. Being left in the dust to rot was definitely the worst now that could happen, he was sure of it. If they were angry, they would make it known, and if they were angry, that meant that they still cared.

He wasn't going to wait for them, either. Pepper and Rhodey were much more acceptable bedside company anyhow. Fury less-so, but when the man dropped by, his first and foremost concern was if he was alright. They didn't engage in conversation about the Big Reveal for close to an hour, and once they had it was short. There were a lot of _I told you so's_ , said outright and heavily implied by each of his visitors, but he saw it coming. He had a good run while it lasted, so it didn't bother him.

A few days after initially waking up - or waking up lucid - he had amassed a handful of personal items to keep him busy, including a tablet. He could stay connected with Jarvis that way, and jot down his ideas even if he couldn't really act on them. Writing code all day was better than watching cheesy soaps all day.

Shortly after the designated mealtime, while the tablet lay on the bedside table, and several access panels on his arm were open, Tony heard a soft knock on the door. He started, accidentally knocking a wire and sending a jolt of pain up his arm into his shoulder. The joints locked up, sending his pliers tumbling down onto the mattress and a sharp curse through the air.

The door swung open, and a very concerned Steve Rogers scurried into the room.

"Don't get your star spangled panties in a twist, all I did was shock myself," Tony snipped, picking up the pliers once more.

Rogers relaxed slightly, brows still furrowed and ridiculously blue eyes betraying his conflicted emotions. 

"Jarvis tells me you've been spending a lot of time in the gym." And ruined approximately fifteen punching bags, among spilling several cubic feet of sand all over the floor, which the cleaning bots were having a great difficulty cleaning up. 

"I was venting."

"Kay, but you're sweeping the sand up. My bots are sick of cleaning up after you."

"Damnit, Stark!" Rogers snapped, suddenly. "Can't you be serious? I'm trying to understand. I'm trying to piece this together, but you're not _helping_."

The pliers retracted and the panels closed. Tony set the tool down beside the tablet and moved his hand to his side, partially obscuring it from Cap's view. Bad enough the arc was glowing mockingly through the paper thin hospital gown he was wearing. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, Rogers had softened a little, and concern was etched on his face once more.

_Make up your mind!_

"To be completely honest, none of this would have mattered if that shitfest with the tesseract never happened. I'd be in Italy, retired and living on a vineyard."

Rogers sighed, pulling up a plastic chair to sit down. The damn thing was dwarfed under him. This was a man who could snap the armor in half like a twig, if he was angry enough, but sitting there, all of that angry resolve bled away and he looked like a scared kid.

"It would," he said, "It does matter. Look, I was angry... You're my friend. For two days we didn't know if you were going to live or not. I was angry, maybe I still am, but..." He trailed off, and Tony looked down at his hands.

"I'm not going to ask why," he slumped in the chair, "But you don't need to hide from us anymore."

"So you're over it, just like that?"

"No. How likely are you to have a heart to heart right now?"

"Really, _really_ not."

Rogers nodded, biting back an amused grin. "We're a family, Anthony. We're not going to abandon you over this."

"It's just Tony," he replied, "No heart to hearts, remember? Go destroy more gym equipment so I can sleep. Goodbye, Rogers."

"It's just Steve," he echoed Tony's words, before getting up and returning the chair to its original resting spot. He left the room without another word, and Tony felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

* * *

Barton turned up next, not too long after. Romanov was lingering in the waiting area, according to Jarvis, so they came together. 

The archer was tight-lipped and withdrawn, much like the weeks following the invasion. Whether it had been the Big Secret that was disturbing him so much, or the near miss that had Steve coming around so quickly was completely unclear. Tony didn't like not being in-the-know, but he wasn't going to express the distaste when Barton was so closed off. 

He imagined it took quite a bit for the man to come here. 

They hadn't gotten along at all in the beginning. Iron Man was a valuable asset to the team, but couldn't be trusted. Any computer program that could learn and behave freely was a threat. He wasn't so sure about the man, himself. He had been in favor of closely monitoring him like a ticking time bomb, and treating their situation like the next wrong move was going to warrant termination. 

It wasn't Tony's sharp wit and sophisticated puns that won him over, either. Barton kept his distance even more, if that were possible, upon being exposed to his attitude. It was _Jarvis_ that got him to come out of his AI-loathing shell.

He saw Iron Man as a challenge from then on. A game of wits. Tony wouldn't complain, because it was pleasant to have someone who appreciated your sense of humour, and eventually they came to respect one another. 

"I guess my mistrust was entirely misplaced," Barton said, finally. Tony's eyes darted to the door, and he frowned. Romanov was lingering in the doorway, checking in on her friend. 

"I thought I was dealing with Skynet. Turns out I was just dealing with a selfish bastard."

"Clint," Romanov warned, and he shot her a look.

Tony scoffed, and shook his head. 

"No, you listen, Stark. You messed up. You hid from your responsibilities, and you lied to us. You should have said something, we would have kept our mouths shut. That's part of our job description!"

"I'm no less bot now than you thought I was before," he snapped, prodding a metal finger in his direction. "Only forty percent of me is flesh and blood. Did you know that? Did you know that when I came back, while I was bedridden, there were a lot of people that wished I had died? I gave them what they wanted! A better world where Tony Stark doesn't exist."

"That's not what this is about," Barton retorted. "We cared about you,"

Cared.

Past tense.

Whoops.

"And you lied to us? Were you just going to wait until you died on a solo mission for us to find out? Fuck. I shouldn't have come here."

Just like that, he stormed from the room, slipping past the ever collected Agent Romanov.

"If you're going to yell, can it wait until tomorrow? I think I'm tuckered out," Tony said, looking away from her to stare absently out the window.

"I'm not going to yell. In fact, I think the others have gotten the main point across quite effectively." She came into the room, letting the door drift halfway closed behind her.

"I could tell from the beginning that you didn't trust us. Not fully."

"How do you figure?"

"You don't call us by our first names. "

Retrospect was a bitch.

"There are parts of me that I wouldn't let the world know about," she continued, "Just like you didn't want the world to see you. For that, I'm not upset."

She swept gracefully out of the room, and Tony was left to mull over the day's events. Thor never turned up, and Jarvis confirmed that the demigod had departed from Earth some days before, and had not told a soul as to why he was leaving.

Yeah, Tony had his reasons for doing this, but throwing the team under the bus was unfair. He should have declined the position, or steered clear.

* * *

Pepper returned from a series of arduous meetings across the country just in time for Tony to sign the release forms.

She brought him back to the tower, and straight up to the penthouse from the garage. As much as he wanted to tinker and build, he didn't have the energy for it. Moving at all after being stationary for so long had taken a lot out of him, so he resigned himself to lounging in his suite for the remainder of the day.

He was quiet for the trip, thoughtful, and mused about what the others had said. When the elevator finally stopped, he wheeled out into the hallway, followed by Pepper, and his senses were promptly overwhelmed by the most decadent scents to ever cross his threshold.

"Did you cook?"

"What on _earth_ could you be talking about?"

He paused, only for Pepper to step behind the chair and start pushing. 

"Wait a minute, no! _Hey_!"

She turned him around a corner into the main area, where he found the team gathered around an otherworldly feast, some shiny balloons, and a handmade banner that read _Glad you're not dead, Asshole -Hawkeye_

"You've got to be kidding me," he shook his head, stifling laughter.

"We had our objections about Clint's decorations, but Jarvis said you might actually appreciate it," Steve said, sheepishly.

"Hilarious," he remarked. "And the food?"

"Twas I," Thor announced, sporting a wide grin and an apron that read _I didn't wash my hands_ across the chest. "I bring only the finest of dishes from Asgard. A feast fit for a warrior!"

Tony didn't protest as Pepper pushed him over to the table, where a plate was set in front of him.

"You're going to be okay," she said, taking the empty seat beside him. 

Because they were a family.


End file.
